


like his teeth on my throat

by ChronicTonsillitis



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: And Romance, Cheating, Come Marking, Dom Bellamy Blake, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealousy, Possessive Sex, Post-Season/Series 05 AU, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, a lil, are we embarassed by these tags yet, can't forget the romance, in case you missed that, just kink salad really, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicTonsillitis/pseuds/ChronicTonsillitis
Summary: “Well, fuck your point. They didn’t deserve you, Clarke. You don’t belong to them.”Clarke pulls in closer. She has to crane her head at this angle, her eyes burning angrily into his. “I don’t belong to you either.”****From the 2019 kink meme:Bellamy walks in on Clarke hooking up with someone and loses his shit even though he’s still with Echo, he chases them off then has rough possessive hate sex to remind Clarke who she belongs to.“We both know you’ve always been mine, Princess.”
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 28
Kudos: 419
Collections: The 100 Kinkmeme Round 2019





	like his teeth on my throat

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before season 6 so like it does not have the right info about sanctum but frankly I cannot bring myself to give a shit. also there's no set narrator bc I don't care it be like that.
> 
> enjoy
> 
> it's just porn btw and like pretty ooc but yolo
> 
> (Also parts of it kinda read as dub-con-y but Clarke is fully consenting and actively participating I promise)

They’ve been on the ground for nearly three weeks, found the old Eligius camp, and made headway with working towards living peacefully. Clarke doesn’t want to count her chickens but she thinks, this time, maybe, it might work.

The talks lasted all day, and they’ve finally reached a conclusion all parties were at least tentatively excited by. The meeting devolved into a somewhat celebratory atmosphere, what with the distribution of the truly ungodly amount of moonshine they had found on the ship, the vats labeled in black marker by Monty as “Party Juice for New Earth”. 

Clarke mentally raises a glass. _Thank you, Monty, for your wonderful gift of a new home, and of this surprisingly drinkable Bad Decision Juice._

She’s alone, as she always seems to be these days. She scans the crowd of people appraisingly.

Clarke can’t remember his name, but one of the Eligius III guys is giving her serious bedroom eyes, and she’s just tipsy enough to consider it. All of her friends are paired off anyways. 

And at this point she’s using the term friends loosely, given that they all seem to hate her with the possible exception of Murphy, which is the plot twist of the year. She can see them all across the fire, in sets of twos: Murphy and Emori, Raven and Shaw, Bellamy and Echo.

She shrugs mentally. It’s been over a hundred and six years since she’s gotten laid, she can let herself have this. She raises an eyebrow at the man, catching his eye, and he smirks, making his way over to her.

Ten minutes later Clarke’s pressed up against the back wall of one of the buildings, her shirt discarded carelessly on the ground, as the man sucks hard kisses into her neck.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs into the skin of her throat, and she yanks his hot mouth back up to hers, mostly so she doesn’t have to hear his unfamiliar voice. Clarke hikes one leg up around his waist and fists a hand into his hair. What was his fucking name again? She decides it doesn’t matter. She can feel a damp spot starting to form between her legs, and she grinds her hips against him.

Through a haze, her brain registers a noise like a growl and suddenly the man is ripped away from her, pinned to the wall next to her by a strong arm across his throat. Clarke scrambles for her shirt and takes in the scene, her eyes narrowing.

“What the fuck, Bellamy.” His eyes flash to her for a second and she is taken aback by the sheer rage in them.

Her unfortunate conquest pleads with him, shaking. Clarke is fairly underwhelmed by his reaction. “I didn’t know she was taken, man, I’m sorry!”

“For the record, I am most definitely not taken,” Clarke interjects, but no one’s paying attention to her. 

Bellamy moves like he’s going to release the man and then slams him back into the wall, getting close in his face. The man turns his head away from Bellamy’s hot breath against his face, scrunching his eyes up in terror. “Don’t you ever fucking touch her again, you hear me?”

The man nods frantically and Clarke rolls her eyes. Bellamy lets him go with one more menacing look and the dude almost pisses himself, running away as fast as he can. 

_Choice pick, Clarke_ , Bellamy thinks, and turns back towards her.

Clarke stands there glaring at him, her shirt pressed to her bare chest. Bellamy glares back. 

“Was that seriously fucking necessary?” Clarke asks, indignant. Bellamy pushes his hair back from his face and looks at her in a manner that makes her face go hot, like she’s a petulant child that he has to deal with. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own goddamn decisions, Bellamy.”

He scoffs and crosses his arms. “Oh yeah, Clarke? You really think fucking someone you’ve known for, what? Three whole minutes, maybe, is a good plan? We’re in the middle of negotiations, act like an adult. You’re not a teenager anymore, throwing yourself at the enemy is not really a good look.”

Clarke wants to punch him, wants to smack that insolent little smirk off his face, wants feel his hand in her hair, wrenching her head back as he makes her take it. She strikes off that last thought.

Clarke can still feel the sexual tension she had built up during the make-out session, and tries to funnel it into her anger, tries not to think about the man in front of her in the way she used to during cold nights in the valley. He has his own person to fuck, he ought to let her have hers.

“How dare you act like I’m some slut, Bellamy. I can fuck whoever I want. And we are not in the middle of negotiations, we finished today, in case you weren’t paying attention. Forgive me for wanting to celebrate.”

“Well, celebrate in some way that doesn’t involve rubbing your body up against a practical stranger in a dark corner of camp like the rest of us, then.” Bellamy is practically boiling with rage and sexual frustration. His eyes keep falling on Clarke’s heaving chest, on the cleavage showing as she carelessly lets the shirt fall from her breasts. He catches a glimpse of a darkened spot on her throat and something dark and possessive in him wants to cover it with a mark of his own.

“Why are you always like this? I mean, Jesus fucking Christ Bellamy, every single time I try to fuck somebody you’re such an asshole about it. You hated Finn, you really hated Lexa, you were a complete dick to Niylah—“

“You fucked Niylah?!”

Clarke glares at him. “That is really not the point.”

“Well, fuck your point. They didn’t deserve you, Clarke. You don’t belong to them.”

Clarke pulls in closer. She has to crane her head at this angle, her eyes burning angrily into his. “I don’t belong to you either.”

Bellamy’s arms snake around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and he barks out a mean laugh. Clarke shudders at the feeling of his hot hands spanning across her bare skin; so big, like they could crush her. 

His eyes go dark and he presses her back into the wall, one hand coming up to rest firmly against her throat.

“Bullshit. You can try to convince yourself otherwise, but you’ve known, even since the dropship.” Bellamy grips her jaw tightly, forcing her to keep her eyes on him, and grins. “We both know you’ve always been mine, Princess.”

Clarke feels a hot spike of pleasure at his words even as her eyes flash at his absolute audacity. She opens her mouth to speak, to yell at him, but she’s cut off by the rough crush of his lips to her mouth.

The kiss is bruising, punishing. He takes and takes and takes and Clarke gives just as well as she can. He thrusts a thigh between her legs, grinding hard against her clit through the fabric of her pants, and Clarke moans into his mouth.

Clarke’s fingers tangle in his dark curls, holding his head to her. He sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. Clarke pulse races, heart thumping hard, head empty of anything and everything that isn’t Bellamy.

In a smooth motion, he flips her around, pressing her tits into the cold metal wall. Clarke braces her hands in front of her, feeling his hard cock pressing against the curve of her ass.

His fingers twist into her hair, pulling her head back and extending her neck so he can get his teeth on the column of her throat. Bellamy finds the bruise marring her pale skin and obliterates it, biting down and sucking until all that's left is his own mark. A ring of teeth just the right size, so she won’t be able to forget him.

He won’t let her forget him.

Bellamy’s other hand slips around her front, pinching her nipples and roughly palming her tits before sliding down the bare plane of her belly. Clarke’s skin twitches and tightens as his fingers run across the sensitive flesh on her flanks, finding her navel and continuing down. 

He pops open the button of her jeans.

“Is this what you wanted, Clarke?” he asks lowly, slipping his hand into her panties. His fingers find her clit and pinch. “Were you gonna let that idiot play with your pussy? Let him try and make you come?”

His chin is tucked over her shoulder, face nuzzling her temple, and she twists her head against his resistance, trying to look at him. Her eyes find his, glaring hotly.

“No,” she spits. “I was gonna let him fuck me.”

Bellamy growls, wrenching her head back again, and Clarke feels satisfaction curl in her belly. A cruel smile threatens at the corners of her lips. 

“I was gonna let him fuck me, and when we were done, I was gonna come back to the fire and say goodnight. I was gonna stand in front of you with his cum dripping out of me, and there would’ve been nothing you could say about it, because _I’m not yours_.”

His forearm shoves harder against her shoulders and Clarke laughs, her cheek pressed to the wall. Bellamy’s breath is hot on her ear. “Wanna bet?”

The hand in her pants pinches her clit again before roughly pulling out. He tugs down her pants, exposing her ass, and pushes against the small of her back, forcing her to arch her spine.

Bellamy shoves his fingers into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue, and Clarke gags.

“Get them wet,” he orders, landing a hard slap against her ass. Clarke yelps and complies, closing her lips around the digits and laving them with her tongue. 

He pulls them out and slides them down the cleft of her ass, thrusting two fingers unceremoniously into her cunt. Bellamy lets out a dark laugh as he curls them inside her. “Shouldn’t have bothered, should’ve known you’d already be fucking dripping.”

Clarke lets out a gasp as he fucks her roughly on his fingers, scissoring them inside her to open her up. 

“So fucking tight,” he says, cramming a third finger into her cunt. “Tell me, Princess, how many cocks have you let fuck this little hole?”

Clarke’s eyes clench shut tight and she pants, resting heavily against the wall in front of her.

“Enough,” she grits through her teeth. “I’ve lost count.”

“Hmm.” Bellamy spreads his fingers apart and Clarke whimpers at the stretch. His voice sounds almost amused. “I don’t think I believe you.”

And he’s right. Even if she had been with plenty of men, it’s been years. Hundreds, technically, but at least six. The last person other than herself to breach her cunt had been Lexa, and her fingers were much smaller than Bellamy’s, thinner than Clarke’s own fingers even.

“Tell me, Clarke,” Bellamy breathes, grinding his cock against her ass. He wants to fuck her open on his cock, split her so wide she’ll never forget it. He curls his fingers back, using her cunt to hold her still.

“Just one!” She yelps. Bellamy smirks, the corners of his lips curling into a feline grin. No men since Finn, then.

“Just like I told you, Clarke,” he says, pumping his fingers into her. His teeth graze the skin below her ear. “Even since the dropship.”

Bellamy holds her hips to him firmly, fucking her pussy with one hand, the other curling around to rub fast circles around her clit.

Clarke feels the familiar heat of orgasm start to build up in her. “Oh fuck,” she moans. “I’m gonna—”

He pulls his hand away from her clit in an instant. The fingers thrusting into her still. 

“Gonna what?” Bellamy taunts. “Come?”

Clarke’s eyebrows pinch together and she tries to push back against his fingers but he keeps her still. She drops one hand from the wall, intending to slip it between her thighs. Bellamy catches her wrist before she can make contact, twisting her arm behind her back.

“Bellamy, please,” she begs.

“Please, what?” Bellamy asks. His fingers give one teasing thrust and her hips jerk.

Clarke moans, her eyes clenched shut. “Please let me come.”

Bellamy grins. “That’s my good girl.”

His hand returns to her clit, working her furiously, rubbing her practically raw. The fingers in her pussy push and twist, stretching her hole. Clarke feels the pleasure start to crest again, like a wave roaring towards her. Bellamy can feel her start to tighten around him. 

“Come for me, Princess,” he whispers, and the wave crashes, pulling her over. She lets out a shuddering moan, the walls of her cunt spasming around his fingers. Her whole body is wracked with rippling aftershocks, muscles clenching and relaxing involuntarily.

She sags against the wall in front of her, catching her breath until she hears something clink behind her, and her spine stiffens. His belt buckle.

Bellamy runs his wet fingers down the length of her back and pulls his cock out of his pants, giving it several rough strokes. He doesn’t need it. He’s already hard as a rock.

He settles one hand on the curve of her hip and takes his cock in the other, positioning it at her entrance.

“Wait!” Clarke yelps, and he freezes. “What about your girlfriend?”

“What about her?” Bellamy asks through gritted teeth. He runs his cock along the length of her slit, coating himself in her slick.

“We shouldn’t—” Clarke stutters as the head of his cock brushes against her sensitive clit. “She wouldn’t like this.”

“She wouldn’t, “ he agrees, pumping his hips between her slick thighs. “Do you care?”

“I— no.” Clarke swallows back a moan. “Do you?”

Bellamy pauses, slowing the motion of his hips. He should care, he knows. He really definitely probably should, but he just… doesn’t. 

Bellamy can’t even think about Echo right now. He can’t get the image of Clarke talking to him with another man’s cum dripping down her thighs out of his head. The only thing he cares about right now is making sure she’s full of him instead.

“Not even a little,” he says, and slots the head of his cock back at the entrance of her pussy.

The blunt head of his cock spreads her pussy wide, and Clarke is grateful for the preparation of his fingers, but it’s not nearly enough. She comes up on her toes, moving instinctively away from the intrusion spearing her open, and Bellamy growls.

One of his hands tangles back in her hair; the other curling around her belly and pressing her hips down, forcing her back onto his cock. Clarke whines at the stinging stretch. 

“C’mon, Princess,” Bellamy whispers. He’s stretched out over her, his body covering almost every inch of hers. If anyone came by, all they would see is his back. “You can take me.”

She shakes her head, worrying her lip between her teeth. “I don’t—” He slides an inch deeper and she shudders. “I _can’t_.”

Bellamy’s lips find the shell of her ear, and he nips the soft skin. “I know you can. You were meant to.”

The hand on her belly drift down to play with her clit, working her up until he can feel her cunt start to relax around him. 

“You know why?” Bellamy asks, his fingers pinching her clit hard. He thrusts the rest of his cock into her, covering her mouth with his own and swallowing the keen that rips from her throat. “Because you’re _mine_.”

He’s splitting her open, she’s sure of it; and it hurts, really it does, but it’s also _so good_. She gasps as an unexpected orgasm rips through her, cunt clenching around his hot length. “Oh, god.”

“Did you just come?” Bellamy asks, voice full of something Clarke can’t quite place through her haze. She nods as she shivers and shakes in his arms.

The feeling of her pussy spasming around him is ecstatic. Bellamy doesn’t hold back, pulling out until the head of his cock clips the sides of her entrance and thrusting back in forcefully. 

Clarke moans and takes it, letting him use her cunt as he wants to, as he needs to, limp in the afterglow of her second orgasm.

His hips snap against hers, jarring her bones with the force. His balls slap heavy against her slit with each thrust.

“So tight,” he grits, sweat beading on his brow from the exertion. “Your pussy is fucking clinging to me.”

Bellamy pounds into her, deeper than she’s ever felt, his cock touching places that have never been touched before. He presses back on her belly and gasps, hips stuttering against her. 

“Fuck,” Bellamy breathes, fingers pushing down tight below her navel. Clarke shudders at the extra pressure and he gives another tentative thrust. “Can feel myself inside you.”

He fucks into Clarke with renewed vigor. His fingers slide back down to her clit, slipping back through the thatch of blond curls at the apex of her thighs. Teeth nip hard at her shoulder.

“Think you can give me one more, Princess?” Bellamy growls into her ear.

“I don’t—” Clarke gasps as his fingers press down hard on her clit, a spike of pleasure shooting through her. She nods tersely. “Yes.”

“Such a good girl,” he says, his voice deep and hot. “Taking me just right, coming for me over and over. So fucking perfect.”

Bellamy circles her clit, using just the right amount of pressure to make Clarke go weak at the knees. He wraps a arm around her front, hand sliding up between her tits to settle on the hollow of her throat. Her weight rests against his forearm, and he holds her up with ease.

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up,” he pants, reaming her with the full length of his cock. “You’re gonna take my cum like a good girl, and it’ll be me who’s dripping out of you, the way it’s supposed to be.” 

Clarke’s pussy clenches at his words and she moans, hips jerking up against his fingers, desperate for more friction on her clit. 

“Please,” she begs.

His hand on her throat tightens possessively as he huffs into her ear. “Gonna fill you up with my cum so nobody else will fucking touch you. Gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Clarke writhes against his hands, pressing back to meet the punishing thrusts of his hips. “Yes!”

“You’re mine,” he rumbles, pressing down hard on her clit. “Say it!”

“I’m yours,” Clarke sobs as pleasure crests within her once more. Bellamy grins against the skin of her throat, feeling her break apart around him again. He pounds into her once, twice, three times more, and lets her orgasm wring his own from him. 

Bellamy braces himself with one hand on the wall, stretching out over Clarke’s sated body. His cock presses in as deep as he can go and jerks, hot cum spilling into her cunt, marking her.

Clarke groans at the feeling of it flooding her, hot and wet and filthy. He holds himself up over her, eyes clenched shut tight as he catches his breath.

She feels his cock soften within her, and his cum slips out around it, rolling down her thighs. Bellamy looks down, eyes dark, and watches. He presses his fingers against her hole as he pulls out, holding his cum inside her. 

With careful movements, Bellamy turns her around and slides up her panties and jeans. Clarke remains still, leaning against the wall as he tucks himself back into pants and zips them up. He picks her shirt up off the ground and brushes it off, holding it out to her.

“Here,” Bellamy says, his voice gruff.

Clarke takes it without looking at him. She slips it over her head.

He clears his throat, wringing his hands. “Look, Clarke—”

“Don’t,” she says sharply, looking up. “Don’t you dare say it was a mistake.”

Bellamy’s eyes flash to hers, hard and hot. “It wasn’t.”

“Good,” Clarke says, stepping forward, crowding into his space. Her hands reach up, dragging his face down so she can press her lips against his ear. “Because you’re mine too.”

She releases him and turns away, moving to walk back to the fire. 

“So what now?” Bellamy calls after her, feeling off-balance, almost desperate. He swallows hard against the lump building in his throat. 

Clarke stops and looks back at him over her shoulder, eyes glittering. 

“Break up with your girlfriend,” she says, a smile curling her lips. “And then we’ll talk.”

“Right,” Bellamy says, watching her walk away. His gaze drops to the ground as he thinks about Echo, about his promise to her about nothing changing, and his stomach twists with dread. 

Bellamy looks up again, catching a glint of gold as Clarke steps around the building, the firelight catching in her hair. He thinks about her shoulder pressed against his, leaned up against a tree in the quiet dark. He thinks about her arms around his neck, the soft press of her body as she leapt into his arms. He thinks about black blood on her shaking hands, reaching out for him. He thinks about the word ‘hurry’ on her lips, the worst fucking word he’s ever heard. He thinks about her tearful blue eyes gazing up at him from the dirt, his beautiful girl wonderfully, blissfully alive; and about six years worth of missed radio calls. 

He thinks about his cum in her cunt, and how she’ll feel it seeping out of her all night.

“Right,” Bellamy says again, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> ..... y'all got any thoughts?
> 
> (also, look, I know i'm the author but i'm literally still laughing about Bad Decision Juice. Like I wrote that a full year ago and frankly? I'm fucking hilarious)


End file.
